Some time in the recent past (a week or two or three ago?), I was walking along Division Street, one of my favorite cross-town routes for reasons including the pleasure of frequently spying something new, amid all the oldness, no matter how many times I've trod the same exact path. And I did just that: I spied something new. It was a pink heart, drawn or painted on a homeowner's lamppost. Hmmm, I thought. I don't know if that's good or bad. I mean, it's nice. It's a heart. But it's graffiti, too. Hmmm. Then, in days and weeks that followed, as I embarked on more walks, I spied more pink hearts. Perhaps they're all over town. Must admit, I wouldn't know, as my winter walks tend to be limited to Historic Hill. They do speak to me — these hearts — because I agree with the general sentiment. And they're certainly appropriate to today, being Valentine's Day. But after that? Well, the jury's still out. And I'm not the judge, of course, so I'll withhold further commentary. It's my role simply to notice. To enjoy. To keep a look-out ...
